


I Hate the Places That We Go

by silentdescant



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: D/s themes, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy’s been pissy all night, and Adam’s been ignoring him in favor of having a good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate the Places That We Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Minxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/gifts).



> Birthday fic for Minxie!! She prompted me with "rough and tumble jealous sex with Tommy out to prove a point to Adam." :D? Title from the Nickelback song Figured You Out.

Adam knocks on the door to Tommy’s room. Tommy’s been pissy all night, and Adam’s been ignoring him in favor of having a good time. It had been a _really_ good time, but the guilt is finally catching up with him. He’s such a shitty friend. “Tommy, it’s me. Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he calls.

The door swings open, leaving his hand resting against thin air, and Tommy yanks him inside. “Yeah,” he snaps. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, Adam, _you_ , you fucking idiot.”

“What did I do?” Adam asks plaintively. He’s never seen Tommy this angry, and it’s a little freaky.

“Don’t you mean who? Or can you even remember his name?” Tommy sneers.

Adam’s expression hardens. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s not your business where I stick my dick.”

Tommy snorts. “Yeah, you’ve made that clear.” He spins around and kicks the edge of the bed.

“What has gotten into you?”

“Not you, obviously.”

That stops Adam short. He catches Tommy by the arm and keeps him from moving further away. “Are you _jealous_?” he asks incredulously.

“You disappear every fucking time we go out,” Tommy shouts. “Every time, Adam, you’re so fucking predictable. You go to the bar, and you pick out a pretty little underage twink, and you fuck him in the bathroom. Well, I’m sick of it.”

He twists out of Adam’s hold and Adam lets him go, too shocked to keep his grip steady. “You have no right—”

“Why them? Why a nameless kid every other week?”

Adam throws his arms wide. “Is it so wrong to want to get laid?”

“Why not me?” Tommy’s face is contorted with anger. It’s such an unfamiliar expression on him that Adam doesn’t quite know how to react. But Tommy seems to take his lack of response as an answer and shoves him back against the wall.

“I’m right here, Adam,” Tommy shouts in his face. He’s stronger than he looks—Adam doesn’t want to fight him—and holds Adam against the wall like it’s no big deal. Adam shifts his shoulders but Tommy’s grip doesn’t ease up. “Why not me?”

“You never—”

“I never what, I never asked for it? Neither did those boys. Didn’t stop you from chatting them up, did it? Didn’t stop you from buying them drinks, or dancing with them, or _fucking them_.” He pushes up on his toes, gets right in Adam’s face, so close that they’re sharing breath, and whispers, “I’m right here, Adam, and you never even tried.”

“I didn’t think I could,” Adam replies quietly.

Some of the anger seeps out of Tommy’s gaze. He sinks back down and his grip on Adam loosens. “Well, you can,” he says. “And you should. You should’ve a long time ago.”

Tommy presses his open palm on Adam’s sternum and holds him against the wall for a moment, then surges up on his toes to kiss him. It’s nothing like the kisses they’ve shared onstage, where Tommy follows Adam’s lead and Adam’s concentrating on a million other things besides how hot and wet Tommy’s tongue is, sliding against his own. He can concentrate on that now, though, and he does. He reaches up and fists his hands in the back of Tommy’s t-shirt, not letting him pull away.

Tommy rests his free hand against the wall beside Adam’s head, uses it for leverage to pull Adam forward. They stumble towards the bed and go down hard—Adam catches himself before he falls on Tommy and squishes him to death, but it’s a near miss. Tommy squirms under him, wiggling up the bed and out of Adam’s reach.

“You finally gonna fuck me now?”

“You want me that bad, you should’ve said something sooner,” Adam snaps.

Tommy whips his shirt over his head and settles back against the headboard, bare-chested and so, so pale. The tattoos that cover his arms stand out in sharp relief against his smooth, fair torso. He starts plucking at the button on his jeans, pulling it away from his belly to undo it. Adam catches a glimpse of the elastic waistband underneath and swallows hard. They’re really about to do this.

He grabs Tommy’s calves and pulls him down flat on the bed. Between Tommy pushing and Adam pulling, they get his jeans and socks yanked free and tossed to the floor. Adam crawls over Tommy and stares down at him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even try,” Tommy mutters. “You didn’t want all this?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want it,” Adam replies. He sits up and drinks in the sight of Tommy spread out beneath him, the pink of his nipples and the faint shadows between his ribs. He fits his fingers into those shadows and brushes his thumbs over Tommy’s nipples as they harden. He feels so small under Adam’s hands. “I’ve dreamed about this.”

Tommy reaches up and wraps his hands around Adam’s wrists. “Fucking idiot.”

In a surprisingly athletic move, Tommy gets his ankles wrapped around Adam’s legs and flips them over so Adam’s flat on his back. His hands go tight around Tommy’s sides.

“You could’ve had me this whole fucking time,” Tommy mutters. “And you go and fuck those skinny little teenagers.”

“They aren’t _that_ young,” Adam protests.

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “I know your type.”

“You are my type.”

“I look like a kid.” He presses down into Adam’s hands, rocks his hips down to rub against Adam’s jeans.

“But you’re not,” Adam says. He digs his fingernails into Tommy’s back and drags him down so their chests are pressed together. He can feel the hot flush of Tommy’s skin where it touches his own through the low neck of his shirt. “And that means I don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to fuck your brains out.”

Tommy breaks into a grin. “Ahh,” he sighs. “Finally gettin’ with the program.”

Adam takes that to mean Tommy also wants him to fuck his brains out and covers Tommy’s mouth with his own to stall further conversation. Now that they’re on the same page, he’d much rather be kissing than talking. He pushes his tongue into Tommy’s mouth, chases him up when Tommy tries to pull away, and finally gets a hand around the back of Tommy’s head to hold him close. When they do part, Tommy gasps for breath, his head tossed back to expose the graceful line of his neck.

While he’s distracted, Adam flips them back over. As much as he loves his boys riding him, he needs to be the one in charge on this particular night. Tommy doesn’t appreciate the sudden turn, however.

“You wanna fuck me like you fuck those pretty boys?” he says under his breath. He claws at Adam’s shirt, finally gets his hands underneath, and digs his blunt nails into Adam’s skin. “Want me all quiet and pliant and perfect?”

Adam certainly wouldn’t say no to that.

“You wanna forget my name tomorrow? Huh?”

“Tommy—”

“Yeah, say it. Say my name, show me you know who you’ve got in your bed tonight.”

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” Adam snaps, annoyed.

“ _You_ think I’m hot shit,” Tommy corrects him smugly, and he’s right, the little brat. “And hey, at least I made it to your bed and not just a grimy fucking toilet stall.”

Adam pushes up onto his knees and glares down at him. He’s smirking. “This is your room, bitch.”

“Whatever,” Tommy shrugs. “I got you into my bed. That’s even better.”

“Why are you so bent out of shape over this?” Adam asks. Tommy ignores him and starts working on his jeans, and hey, Adam’s never going to stop a pretty boy from getting his hands in Adam’s pants. He runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “Tommy.”

“I’m better than them,” Tommy mutters.

“I know you are,” Adam whispers. “That’s why I didn’t want to fuck you up.”

Tommy gets Adam’s jeans pushed down around the tops of his thighs and looks up. He meets Adam’s eyes, and for a moment Tommy looks like he understands. Then he grins wickedly. “Is your dick hard yet? I want you to fuck me.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Again with the insults. That’s not the way to get me to cooperate, y’know.”

“Seems to have worked alright so far,” Tommy counters.

Adam gets off the bed and shoves his jeans to the floor, then flings his shirt over his head. Tommy watches him closely but doesn’t move. He palms himself through his briefs, and Adam thinks about doing the same—because seriously, _hot_ —until Tommy opens his fucking mouth again.

“How was that kid tonight? Did he go to his knees? Did he blow you real good? Or did you fuck him against that gross metal door?”

It had been a blowjob, a really fucking good blowjob, and the kid’s name was Jason—or maybe Jeremy—and Tommy really needs to shut the fuck up about Adam’s hookups.

“Can you even get hard again, old man? I want you in me, what’s taking so long?” Tommy taunts. He’s stroking himself now, rubbing his fist along the hard line of his cock, and there’s a damp stain spreading through the fabric around the head.

Adam stands up and yanks down his underwear and before Tommy even has time to get a good look, Adam launches onto the bed, pinning Tommy down by his shoulders. “You know you’re older than me, you little bitch.”

Tommy’s lips twist into another sinful grin and he arches up, pulls Adam’s lower lip in between his teeth to bite. Adam gets a hand between them and pushes down on Tommy’s throat, enough to make him gasp for air and collapse back onto the bed. He looks fucking enraptured, which is, okay, not unusual for Adam to see in his boys, but it is unusual to see it in Tommy.

“You want me to fuck you?” Adam whispers.

“Yeah,” Tommy breathes.

In lieu of a reply, Adam takes Tommy by the shoulders and manhandles him onto his stomach, then yanks down his briefs. Tommy kicks them off his ankle and tries to squirm back around, but Adam lies down on top of him and presses him down. His cock is shoved right up against Tommy’s ass, sliding against his crack, and he lets out a moan. He’s got a condom and packet of lube in his jeans, but he really doesn’t want to move.

“You gonna fuck me or what?” Tommy grumbles. He shifts his ass back, rubs tantalizingly against Adam’s dick, and shoves up hard enough to dislodge him.

He stays on his knees while Adam gets the stuff, though, which just looks gorgeous. Adam stands at the foot of the bed for a moment to stare. Tommy jokes about not having an ass all the time, but bent over like this, thighs spread open like they are, he’s got all the curve he needs. Adam knee-walks onto the bed, flush up behind him, and strokes his palm over the pale, sweet skin.

“Fucking do it, come on.”

Without thinking, Adam pulls his hand back and slaps Tommy’s ass, open-handed. It forces a choked gasp out of Tommy, and it shuts him up for a second. Adam tries to hold back a grin. He busies himself putting on the condom and slicking himself up, and Tommy regains control of his dirty mouth.

“What’s taking so long?”

Adam slaps him again. There’s a bright spot of red marking Tommy’s ass now, and Adam sort of wants to mirror it on the other cheek. Not until Tommy asks for it, though. He pushes two slick fingers into Tommy’s asshole instead, slow and steady but relentless, and strokes him inside, carefully massaging and stretching Tommy’s hole.

“Oh, fuck, Adam,” Tommy gasps, which is definitely more along the lines of what Adam likes to hear. He murmurs a few more expletives, which is also nice, but then he says, “I can fucking take it, come on!”

So Adam pulls out his fingers and replaces them with his cock, and really, Tommy probably isn’t ready for it, but he’s fucking asking for it, in more ways than one. Adam gets the head of his cock in, and it is fucking tight. He pauses there, waits for Tommy to realize it’s too much.

Tommy doesn’t shy away, though. He pushes his ass back against Adam’s cock, taking him in, and reaches back with one hand to clutch Adam’s thigh. He’s panting, so Adam knows it’s a strain, but he’s not stopping, and Adam doesn’t have the willpower to stop him either. He stays still, lets Tommy control the pace until he’s fully sheathed, and only then does Tommy sink down to his elbows and push his face into the pillow.

“Jesus,” he groans. “That’s fucking good. That’s fucking… fucking perfect. Needed that.”

“Fuck yeah, you did,” Adam can’t help but agree. He rests his palm over the red spot on Tommy’s ass, feeling the flush, and kneads his hand a little, bringing more blood to the surface. Tommy groans again, louder and longer, and grinds back against Adam’s dick.

“Quit fuckin’ around,” Tommy says.

Adam quits fucking around. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, and grips Tommy’s hips tightly with both hands as he thrusts back in. Tommy’s ass is slick and he’s more relaxed now, used to the stretch, and Adam slides in easily. He moves one hand to the middle of Tommy’s back, high between his shoulderblades, and pushes him down into a sharp bow, forcing his arms out from under him. Tommy takes the manhandling without comment and stretches his arms toward the headboard, and Adam wishes it was more than a single sheet of wood bolted to the wall, wishes Tommy had something to hold onto.

He leans over Tommy and extends his own arms, sliding his hands down until they meet Tommy’s, and laces their fingers together. Tommy takes his weight without complaint, shifts his hips wider to give Adam more leverage, and Adam sighs with satisfaction. Tommy reads him so well, he always has; onstage, offstage… in bed. Adam buries his face in the fluffy, messy part of Tommy’s hair and laughs softly.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers. He almost hopes it’s quiet enough that Tommy won’t hear, because the last thing Tommy needs is encouragement to be more of a mouthy little bitch, but Tommy turns his head to the side and smiles. They rock together and apart, finding their rhythm easily, and before long, Tommy’s groans go high-pitched and needy, and he starts trying to extract his hand from Adam’s grip. Adam doesn’t let him go.

“Adam, I need—I need—”

“I know, baby.”

Tommy struggles under him. “Let me—”

“No, don’t move.” Adam pulls both of Tommy’s wrists together and makes sure he has a good grip on them with one hand before letting go with his other—there’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy will struggle free at the first sign of weakness. He slides his empty hand under Tommy’s chest and tweaks his nipples, and Tommy squirms and whimpers and forces himself down against the scratchy blanket. Adam keeps moving, pulling his hand down until he can reach Tommy’s cock, which is also rubbing against the blanket.

“Fuck, yeah, touch me,” Tommy demands. “Come on, do it. Make me come.”

Adam bites his ear, tasting metal and sliding his tongue against the curve of one earring. Tommy shudders under him and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. His wrists relax in Adam’s hand. Adam strokes him quickly, intent on getting Tommy off before coming himself, and Tommy rocks weakly into his hand. The shallow thrusts are enough to kick Adam back into gear—he can’t help but start thrusting quickly into Tommy’s ass, trying but probably failing to keep a steady counterpoint to his hand.

Tommy cries out, tossing his head back as far as he can without knocking Adam in the chin, and seems unable to make up his mind between grinding back into Adam’s thrusts or pushing forward into his hand. In the end, Adam flattens him to the bed and shoves his cock in hard. Tommy lets out another sharp, high noise and Adam feels the warmth of Tommy’s come spreading over his fingers.

Tommy relaxes completely, then, and Adam even lets go of his wrists. Tommy doesn’t move. He moans and flexes his fingers weakly, and then, because apparently he just can’t keep his thoughts to himself, says, “Fuck, Adam, come in me, wanna feel you, been waiting for this, come on, fuck me hard, yeah, fucking better than those sluts, come on, do me, do it hard, Adam, come on.”

Adam comes. He pushes himself up on his hands, putting some space between their sweat-slick bodies, and looks down at Tommy’s ass. The mark remains, a faint pink flush on one cheek, but what draws Adam’s eye is the way his ass is stretched around Adam’s cock. He clutches Tommy’s narrow hips in one hand, and that just makes his ass look smaller, makes Tommy look smaller, and Adam bites his own lip hard as his orgasm shudders through him.

When he finishes, he pulls out and shuffles backwards on the bed, bending low to drag his tongue over the pink slap mark, then down to Tommy’s stretched, reddened hole. He slides one finger in and it goes easily to the knuckle. Tommy tries to clench around him, but it’s more of a quick spasm of tightness, then he’s easy again, slick and open.

Adam licks the shiny, tasteless lube where it’s smeared around his crack, then pushes his tongue in next to his finger. He only plays there for a moment, because Tommy’s moaning and shifting and refusing to hold still, so he licks at the rim instead, pulling his finger down and to the side, keeping Tommy stretched for him.

“Jesus fuck,” Tommy moans. “Oh my god.”

Adam settles on his knees and leans over Tommy again to whisper in his ear. “Was it everything you wanted?”

He feels Tommy’s nod. “As long as it’s not just tonight.”

Adam’s breath catches in his throat. “That’s what you were pissed about,” he realizes. “You didn’t just want to fuck me, you wanted to be with me.”

“I _want_ to be with you,” Tommy corrects quietly.

Adam licks the curve of Tommy’s ear and smiles when Tommy shivers. “I think we can make that happen.”

 

 _fin_.


End file.
